Memories
by The Rose Society
Summary: Memories are what detail our pasts, tell our stories, and make us who we are. Facing the loss of them, what will become of us and our story?


**Memories**

**Author**: The Rose Society

**Rating**: M

**Disclaimer:** Characters and referenced events are property of Voltage and respective entities. Referenced a line from Princess Bride, which the the property of William Goldman. Characters, background, and quote are borrowed without permission.

Based on the paid version. Certain details may be incorrect regarding the storyline, which I apologize for. First draft.

* * *

She was only thirty-six years old.

Fuck.

This whole situation deserved another.

FUCK.

She barely registered the tight grip her husband had her left hand in. He had wrapped her left arm around his waist, holding her hand in his own left hand while he wrapped his right arm around her numb body, hand fisting her dress at her waist. With a light, metal jingle, her right hand found the button and unlocked the doors for their car. Using some light pressure, he gently walked her to the passenger door.

"I'll drive."

As he moved to help her into the car, she darted out a bloodless hand to grip his sleeve.

"I don't want to go home," she murmured, her gaze still on her feet.

Pausing, he waited for her to continue, but she didnt. He nodded after awhile. They worked silently together to get her settled into her seat, seatbelt buckled.

Shutting her door, he grabbed his cell to make a quick call to Alberto to not expect them, hanging up before the butler could demand to know where they were going.

Sliding into the drivers seat, he started up the car and they were soon on the road. His right hand gently sought her chilled left, and he laced their fingers, giving her hand a squeeze. The pressure cause the band of her wedding ring to bite into her slender finger a bit but the slight discomfort did not register. She barely even reacted to his hand on hers, instead keeping her eyes focuses on the passing scenery ahead.

Some forty-five minutes later, they arrived at a remote stretch of beach, near an impressive rocky cliffside. They had both shed their shoes. Roberto rolled up his pants cuffs before they started walking, his wife wearing a beautiful dress that ended mid-shin that needed no prep. He had wrapped his arm around her again, left hands tightly clasped together once more, their rings pressed tightly together. Exhausted, she finally leaned her head against his chest and they stood there, feet lapped by gentle waves, looking out over the glittering ocean.

"I'm only thirty-six years old." Her quiet voice finally broke the silence between them, barely heard over the sounds of the ocean.

He squeezed her hand again.

"What will happen to our son?" The sound of a choked sob finally colored the formerly hollow emptiness of her voice. "He's only seven, Roberto, seven!"

He pulled her tighter against him. "I know."

Her tears wet his chest as she cried without making any sound. Finally, muffled against him, she mumbled, "Early-onset Alzheimer's, Roberto. Our son will grow into a young man as he watches his mother slowly lose herself, her memories, to lose him in her mind!" Her shoulders shook. "What kind of mother would I be if I forgot him? And if I forgot you? The day we first met, the first time I learned you would run away from Alberto, our first dance at Nobel Michel What if I forget my beloved husband?"

She swayed, her legs giving out on her, almost falling to the sand. Scooping her up, he carried her in his arms to the sand, and sat down with her sideways in his lap. She leaned tiredly against him, their entwined hands in her lap.

He pressed a kiss to her dark auburn locks and then another kiss to the shell of her ear. Shutting his eyes against his own scalding tears, they sat there until long after the sunset.

Her pained scream of "I just want to keep my memories! WHY CAN'T I KEEP MY PRECIOUS MEMORIES!" was answered only by the rasping of the incoming tide, her voice crashing against the cliffside and battered before an echo could form.

-...-

The news was broken to the her parents and the King first and then Alberto. They wanted to keep those in the know limited to a select few. Alberto assisted them in researching who the top experts were in the diagnosis, so that the princess would receive a second opinion. And then he helped them to schedule her appointments as received care from a team of top doctors, as well as working on obtaining confidentiality agreements and working out secure and private entry and egress plans.

All the while, they tried to keep things relatively normal for that first month as Roberto and his wife discussed how to break the news to their child. When they finally decided on how to tell him, the young family spent the day together before they sat down together.

After some confusion before some shared tears, Roberto watched his wife tenderly smooth their sons hair from his forehead, pressing a kiss to his soft cheek. She straightened and joined him. They made their way to their rooms, arms wrapped around each other as always.

They sat on a plush love seat together, her legs across his lap. He wrapped one arm around her and placed the other hand on her leg, rubbing her knee gently.

"The advisors and my father and mother all agreed to our plan to put off our installation as king and queen for another four years," he nuzzled her temple. "They agreed we deserve some extra time to enjoy being a young family without bearing the full burden of rule." Smiling, his eyes twinkled a bit. "My father practically puffed out his chest when one of the dissenting advisors said he was aging. He did, however, challenge him to a contest of pushups to prove he had the stamina to continue as ruler." Roberto chuckled as his princess gave him a small giggle.

"I appreciate His Highness support in all this. And I do appreciate everyones willingness to keep this quiet for awhile yet before we tell the entire kingdom." She nuzzled his neck. "And I really appreciate you, my Prince, in being my rock in all of this." She breathed out softly against the sensitive skin of his neck before pressing a kiss under his ear.

He gave her a soft and loving smile of his own before kissing her gently on the lips, their breaths mingling as they both exhaled slowly. After a long moment just savoring the warmth shared between them, they both drew back.

"I have a gift for you." Reaching to get something from beneath the cushion, he withdrew a book.

She looked at it then him, questioningly. "A book?" She flipped open the cover and then realization dawned. "Oh, my love..." she breathlessly whispered and lovingly stroked the title page before her.

He helped her to flip to the first page. "This is our story, my dearest love. I had your parents send some of your pictures, from birth on and I added mine and wrote about each of our early lives as we grew up as separate people." Page after page, split in two, chronicled their early lives with many pictures accompanying the written details.

They finally reached the point in the book of their first meeting. Roberto began to read aloud. "'And then, a very lonely prince met a very gorgeous young woman, after a very haughty Prince Keithster's limo splashed her with mud. The lonely prince didn't know he met his future princess until later, at Nobel Michel.'" She smiled as the memories of that night filled her mind. "'He never thought he would say this, but Prince Roberto was actually grateful for the paparazzi, because they and the usual royal photographers were able to capture a lot of footage of that enchanted evening.'" And indeed, many pictures were in that album, shots of the tables laden with food, the guests mingling, chatting, and dancing, the princes in all their splendid regalia, and even Lord Michel.

"'Although they had shared a magical dance together,'" she took up the reading aloud as she traced Roberto's face in the picture of the two of them dancing, "'it was, strangely enough, the bane of Prince Roberto's existence, the fangirls, that really caused him to fully get to know his princess.'" She giggled at the drawn picture, since there hadn't been a photograph of this moment, of a screaming Prince Roberto and what looked like a horde of clawed, fanged monsters chasing him.

They continued to go through the book together, switching back and forth between them the task of reading aloud. Roberto had detailed so much: from their courtship, their first fight, her princess training, the mystery of his mother's locked keepsake box and the recovery of her necklace and earrings, their wedding, their formal approval as prince and princess of Altaria, future reigning king and queen, the birth of their son, and their early years as a young family. All the good times and all the difficult times had been chronicled, with as many pictures, newspaper clippings, printouts, and even included were various discs of video material. It covered everything, including...

"'So Prince Roberto presented his princess this book of their memories, entitled Our Story,'" he read quietly, the rumbling of his voice in his chest tickling her ear. "'Like the princes in storybooks, the prince wanted to grant his princess her most fervent wish. All the good, the bad, the sad, the silly, the joyous, the painful, the boring, the quiet, the busy, the sexy, the loving, the anything and everything of their memories are kept in this book.'" He showed her the blank pages that remained, making up more than half of the pages in the book. "'The prince also left plenty of room for he, his princess, their young son,'" he blushed slightly, "'and any other children should they have them to keep writing their story.'"

She pressed a kiss to his knuckles and then pressed another kiss to his wedding ring. "My optimist." She appreciated his optimism but also recognized the blank pages were also his way of hoping that they still had many more years together yet. They had discussed many things about the future, including having more children, and while nothing was settled, she knew that her dashing and handsome prince would be at her side and together, they would face the dragons of the future and together they would slay them.

He squeezed her thigh gently and returned the pages to read the last written words in the book. "This is the story of Roberto, prince of Altaria, the formerly lonely boy who lost his mother who used to read him stories. This is the story of the smart, vibrant, and gorgeous little girl destined to rescue the lonely prince, who got splashed with mud one day which led her on a grand adventure. This is the story of their journey together. This is the story of their love. So while this is not the simplistic happily-ever-after of fairytales, this is the to-be-continued of our story. Prince Roberto promises his princess that these will not be the last words of this book. All the precious memories the princess wishes to keep, he will fight together with her to keep them, he will shelter and protect her and her memories when she becomes weary, and he will make sure their child(ren) will share these memories with their own children and grandchildren.'"

Carefully, through the film of tears, she picked up the beautiful fountain pen he had included for any handwritten passages and began to write. "''And the princess promises her prince that she will give her memories to her prince's keeping, so that he will always keep them, and her safe. She vows to make as many new memories together as possible, with her prince and their child(ren). And even if one day she is no longer here, she knows her dear and beloved memories will be well-cared for by her loved ones.'"

Capping the pen, she placed the open book on the coffee table to let the ink dry. "That must have been a lot of work, Roberto." She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him to rest his hands at her waist, and she gave him a tender kiss.

He pressed their foreheads together and rubbed his thumbs against her hipbones. "It was, but I had a lot of help from everyone." His exhalation tickled her lips and warmed the slight space between them.

"I love you," they whispered together as they kissed once again, sweetly, lovingly. Another kiss, another memory. And then another, longer in duration and increasing in ardor. And again.

She arched her back to press her chest more fully against his, her hands tangling in his thick brown hair. "Let's go make another beautiful memory together, my husband." Moving her limbs so she straddled him, they smiled at each other, pink dusting their cheeks, with love and desire starting to glaze their eyes.

They clasped their hands while facing one another, a perfect circle with two wedding rings uniting them. After one more less chaste, more passionate kiss, he carefully picked up his wife as she held on with legs wrapped around his waist and arms wrapped around his neck.

"My wife," he whispered as he lay her gently upon the bed. "As you wish."


End file.
